


Kurayami

by PKA



Series: Kintsukuroi Timestamps [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: I Never Thought I Would Use This Tag, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Shameless Smut, Someone is Getting Eaten Alright ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), What Even Is My Life At This Point, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: Will has a bad dream. Hannibal knows just what to do.





	

  


Will doesn't turn on the lights. He finds his way in the darkness, familiar with the architecture. He takes a shower in the dark, towels off in the dark and starts to brush his teeth in the dark; the mirror a black, non-threatening surface in front of him. A nightmare, again, and not even Hannibal's presence was of any help this time. Will blames the unfamiliarity of the bed on the first floor, the absence of the dogs, the lack of alcohol.

He has thrown them all away, all the half-empty bottles of whiskey. Only one remains, safely hidden, unknown to Hannibal. Will thinks about it now. He could go down, take a sip, just a small one to take off the edge, feed the dogs, brush his teeth again and go back to bed as if nothing had happened, sleeping soundly for the rest of the night. Hannibal wouldn't even notice. Except he would.

The door opens. A little bit of moonlight reflects on the surface in front of him and for a few seconds he can see himself – naked, hair still wet from the shower, face covered by a full beard that barely manages to hide his ugly scar. He closes his eyes and it is dark again.

He hears the door close. Arms snake around him and a certain someone presses against his back, warm from sleep.

»Good morning,« Hannibal whispers, kissing the juncture of Will's neck and shoulder, breathing him in.

It's too early to call it morning and it certainly isn't _good_. Will continues brushing his teeth, but Hannibal doesn't seem to need a reply. He knows why Will is up. And he knows just what he needs, which isn't talking about it. He kisses Will's skin, drawing him closer until their bodies are flush against each other. It's still an unusual sensation – a flat chest pressed against his back, covered in fine, silky hair, hard muscle and a firm stomach, a stiff cock nudging against his behind, reminding him of last night. It seems to be a good morning for Hannibal, at least.

»Had pleasant dreams?« Will asks.

Hannibal smiles against him. »No dreams could come close to what awaits me in reality.«

Will's heart flutters nervously, heat coiling low in his stomach. He leans forward to spit toothpaste into the sink. Hannibal's hands wander lower, hold onto his hips. Perfectly aligned. Will hasn't done this before and wonders if he truly wants it. Hannibal thrusts forward lazily. His erection brushes over Will's hole. Will's own soft dick answers his question when it twitches in interest. A soft moan escapes his lips, but at the same time, his muscles clench and his whole body goes stiff. Hannibal strokes his back soothingly, retreating.

»I'm sorry,« Hannibal says, sounding less calm than Will anticipated. »I thought - «

Will turns around and shuts him up with a kiss. Hannibal tastes horribly like sleep.

»Tonight,« Will promises against his lips.

He can't see Hannibal's face in the thick darkness, but he knows what he looks like. Knows the small smile that tells him he doesn't believe it, that it's fine, that he understands. He wants to prove him wrong.

Will steps closer, kisses him more passionately, ignores Hannibal's bacteria-induced bad breath and spreads his own peppermint taste in his mouth.

Hannibal gasps in surprise, his hands finding their way back to Will's hips, pulling him forward, cocks touching. They walk backwards blindly. Hannibal fumbles with the doorknob and then they stumble in the direction of the bedroom, but they don't make it to the bed.

With a thump, Will presses Hannibal against the full length window. It must be barely 4am, the world still clouded in twilight, and Will relishes how Hannibal looks in the pale moonlight - feral, like he did the night they killed the Dragon; fetching, like he did the night he came back. It's highly unlikely that one of Will's neighbors decided to take out their boat at this time of the day and is looking up at his bedroom window right now, but if one of them did, it would be quite a sight to see.

Will thinks of how Hannibal looked last night, saliva and pre-cum dripping from his mouth, or later, when he rutted against him, staring at Will through the mirror. He thinks of how his eyes glinted when he said 'I love you'. Lust overwhelms Will. Love too, and it's all so much that he hardly knows how to deal with it. He feels so _alive_ and it's Hannibal who has revived him. The lord of death granting life.

»Mine,« Will says. It sounds a lot more confident than before.

Hannibal makes an approving sound, puts both his hands on Will's ass and drags him closer; kisses him deeply, beards rasping, each of them claiming the other.

Cocks grinding, breath hitching, hips bucking. Will moans in pleasure; Hannibal pants. This is so new, and yet it feels so integral, so vital. Will is glad for the spark that has ignited this and knows that they cannot go back, that they need it as much as air. A natural progression, always meant to be this way.

Will takes both their dicks in his hand – stroking, fondling, massaging. He still has to test Hannibal's reactions, still not entirely sure what feels right and what feels wrong, but he seems to be getting better at it, because before long, Hannibal comes, early and with unexpected intensity. Will swallows Hannibal's groan, traps his tongue between his teeth and bites him softly, semen running over his hand and onto the floor.

Another thump when Hannibal puts his head back against the fogged window, tries to calm his breath. His chest lifts and falls erratically, enticingly even.

Will brings his hand up to his mouth, tastes the traces of Hannibal, looking him in the eye as he does so. It's a strange, heady flavor, but not unpleasant. Hannibal watches Will consume him with an intense hunger in his eyes. For a moment, Will is not sure if what he is feeling is arousal or fear. Both, perhaps.

Will has been in a position of control until now, but he feels an abrupt reversal. He becomes the hunted and involuntarily takes a step back. Hannibal doesn't let him, hands still on his bottom, squeezing now.

»I want to eat you,« Hannibal says, still holding eye contact, voice husky and humorless.

Will's heart is hammering in his chest. His aching cock leaps at Hannibal's words, deaf to the voice of reason.

Hannibal rights himself and suddenly he is looming over Will. It doesn't lessen the attraction Will feels, and he wonders if he is finally going insane, hearing about a cannibal's urge to eat him and finding it sexy as hell.

A moment later he finds himself pressed against the glass belly-first, the coldness of it a shock to his overheated system. Another shock comes seconds later when Hannibal, on his knees behind him now, parts Will's cheeks and licks a broad swipe across his hole.

Will is practically keening, flooded by the entirely unknown feeling of a moist, slippery tongue pressing against his rim. It's not warm, it's not cold, it's not right, it's not wrong. Hannibal has no mercy with him, gives him no time to adjust. He devours him, his moans vibrating through Will's body, as if his ass is the best thing he's ever tasted.

Wet, filthy sounds of Hannibal licking, slurping, sucking fill the room. Will tries to withhold his own voice, but eventually he lets the floodgates open, lets the noises break out freely, loud and high.

It's the most intimate and invasive thing that has ever been done to him, teetering on the brink of being bizarre, and it's driving him mad. He feels his hole flutter and twitch, feels Hannibal's hands keeping him open, spreading him wider to have better access to his most private parts, exposing him, seeing all of him, more than anyone before him.

Will is grateful that he showered a few minutes before. He knows Hannibal wouldn't have minded either way, which makes it even worse. He feels himself blush down to his chest, incredibly ashamed and incredibly horny. It's sensational, unlike anything else, and it gets better the longer Hannibal's mouth keeps on going at it.

Will puts his head onto the cool surface of the window, stares at the black water moving softly in the silver light, trying to gather his wits together again -

Hannibal pushes his tongue in, just a little, and Will cries out. His whole body shakes and tingles with the force of an overwhelming orgasm, blinding him for a few seconds. His cock spurts untouched, his come streaking the window. He would have slumped to the ground if it weren't for Hannibal, on his legs in an instant, holding him to his chest again.

Will's brain barely functions enough to make out the words he's saying. Endearments again, declarations of love. And loved Will feels, so entirely that it threatens to break his heart from overstimulation.

»I'm glad you're back,« Will says. »And I'm glad you're staying. I wouldn't have survived without you.« It's an understatement. Words feel foreign and unneeded on his tongue. What they share is so much more profound.

His hand is trembling like a leaf; he links fingers with the one holding him up, hoping that says it all.

They watch Will's cum run down the window for a while. Will wouldn't be surprised if Hannibal licked it off, but he doesn't. He drags Will back into bed instead, cleans them superficially, tugs him in and pulls him so close that Will can feel the beat of his heart.

Reality hasn't set in fully yet. It takes a while for Will to hear that the dogs are barking downstairs – roused by their sounds and still nervous about their missing master. Hungry, too. Will sighs and tries to escape Hannibal's hold to get out of bed again. He isn't allowed.

»I'll go,« Hannibal offers. The prospect of him leaving is almost as bad as getting up himself.

»Few more minutes,« Will mutters unintelligibly, sleep and exhaustion tugging at him. He closes his eyes, concentrates on the warmth and solidity of Hannibal's body holding him, nightmares far from his mind.

»I'll stay until you are asleep,« Hannibal murmurs.

Will doesn't answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta [ fragile-teacup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/)! I appreciate your efforts!
> 
> Come visit me on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!


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